Whole Again
by CatS81
Summary: At Stella's 30th birthday party, Boyd and Grace have a heart to heart...
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** "Waking the Dead" and its characters belong entirely to the BBC. I just enjoy taking them out of their comfort zones to play once in a while.

**Spoilers:** Nothing specific, set a few months after the end of Series 7.

**Pairing:** As always, Grace/Boyd

**Notes: **I originally planned this as a short one-shot but it's kind of turned into a bit of a longer fic! I'm not entirely sure where it's going so please bear with me! :)

Stella Goodman smoothed down the emerald organza of her knee-length dress and gazed in satisfaction at the room around her. The large bar had been fashioned perfectly, exactly how she had imagined for her party, the numerous tables adorned with vases of fresh flowers and bottles of crisp champagne, cheerful balloons and banners decorating the walls, upbeat music pulsing enthusiastically from various speakers. She felt a brief flutter of panic as she pondered exactly how she was going to pay for it all on her somewhat meagre Police salary but she dismissed the thought just as quickly, her heart swelling at the sight of her friends and family as they stood together throughout the room, sipping drinks and conversing. _Well, what's turning thirty for if you can't push the boat out?_ She thought, forcing down her anxiety and smiling widely as the latest guest to arrive crossed the room to greet her.

"Happy birthday, Stella." Grace Foley's expression was warm as she greeted the younger woman, brushing a gentle kiss across her cheek as Stella embraced her in welcome.

"Thanks, Grace." She replied as she pulled away, gratefully accepting the bottle of wine Grace had handed to her in a sparkling silver bag.

"How does it feel, then, hitting the big three-oh?" The psychologist asked, sapphire eyes shining, her face creasing with a smile at Stella's groan. "As good as that, eh?"

"Just sounds so _old_, that's all."

Grace laughed. "You wait 'til your next milestone's double that. _Then_ you can talk to me about feeling old."

Stella grinned broadly. "You sound just like my mum."

"Is she here, your mum?"

The Frenchwoman nodded happily. "Yeah, she arrived this morning, I'll introduce you as soon as you've got yourself a drink."

"Just as long as her English is better than my French; I think my limit might be 'Je m'appelle Grace.'"

Stella laughed loudly, reaching over to the nearest table to pour a generous glass of champagne, which she handed to Grace, before letting her gaze flicker briefly to the door, her eyebrows raising in question though she tried to keep her voice level. "Is Boyd not coming?"

Grace gave a barely audible sigh, forcing herself to smile. "I'm sure he will, Stella. He's probably still in the office, that's all."

Stella was incredulous. "On a Saturday night?"

Grace shrugged. "You know what he's like."

"I suppose either that or on the phone to Sarah..."

Grace felt an odd constriction across her chest at the mention of Peter Boyd's American lover but she forced the sensation to the pit of her stomach. "Yeah, there's always that..."

Stella took a breath, the flicker of pain in Grace's eyes not at all lost on her but she smiled brightly, determined to move the subject away from that of her boss and his conspicuous absence. "Anyway, Spence and Eve are around somewhere." She said, "Propping up the bar, last time I saw them."

Grace grinned. "No surprise there, then."

"None whatsoever."

"I suppose I'd better go and say hello. I'd offer to buy them a drink but I'm afraid they might bankrupt me."

Stella laughed. "All right. Help yourself to food whenever you want it."

"Thanks, Stella. I'll see you later." She touched the younger woman gently on the arm then began moving towards the bar, stopping briefly along the way to talk to various Police Officers she vaguely knew before spotting her immediate colleagues, their faces animated in conversation, their fingers curled around pints of amber liquid. Spencer Jordan gave a low, appreciative whistle as Grace approached, enveloping her briefly in his arms in greeting when she reached him.

"God, Grace, you should wear party clothes more often." He said as he pulled away, onyx eyes sparkling cheekily as he looked her slowly up and down, a broad grin spreading across his face. "Give me and Boyd something nice to look at in the office from time to time..."

Grace slapped his arm playfully and rolled her eyes. She had, somewhat apprehensively, chosen a silky skirt of an intense midnight blue with a matching top, the material closely following the contours of her body, a shimmering scarf in a paler blue knotted about her neck. "Very smooth, Spence. Ten out of ten."

"Well, you know me. King of the smooth."

"I'm old enough to be your mother."

He laughed. "Grace, if my mother looked like you do tonight..."

"You'd be giving Oedipus a run for his money?" Eve Lockhart completed his sentence with a smile, the amethyst pendant at her throat swinging gently as she moved to kiss Grace on the cheek.

Grace laughed loudly. "You two need another drink, then, seeing as you're still coherent enough to be bringing Freud into the conversation?"

Eve nodded in grateful acceptance while Spence groaned theatrically. "Look, if you two Doctors are gonna go all intellectual on me, I'm gonna trade you both in for the bimbos in the corner, all right?"

Eve gasped in mock horror. "Surely not. And there's us thinking you were into intelligent women."

"Not on the weekend, Eve..."

Grace grinned. "Oh, I see, so on the weekend it's all about one thing and one thing only, is it?"

Spence gave an exaggerated wink. "I'm young, free and single, Grace..."

"We should talk about that one day, you know, Spence."

"What?"

Grace's blue eyes were shining. "The psychological damage strings of casual relationships can do to you over time."

He shrugged. "I'll believe it when I see it, Grace."

Eve took a large gulp from her fresh pint of lager before giving a throaty chuckle. "She's right, you know, Spence. Give yourself ten years and you'll be one of those sad forty-somethings hanging around night clubs, dribbling over teenagers in short skirts."

"Either that or you'll suddenly see the light and end up with a semi in the suburbs, a wife and two point four children." Grace added.

Spence laughed loudly. "It'll never happen. Give me dribbling over teenagers any day."

Grace shook her head and patted his arm. "You're a hopeless case, you know that? Bloody hopeless."

"Trait of the gender, though, isn't it?" Eve asked playfully, a mischievous sparkle dancing in her eyes. "In my experience, men are commitment-phobic wannabe letharios well into their forties..."

Grace took a breath to reply but was interrupted as Spence gave another groan. "That's it, I'm definitely defecting to the bimbo camp if this is gonna turn into a men-bashing session..."

The profiler held up a hand, a placating gesture. "Sorry, Spence. We promise to behave..."

"Where the hell's Boyd, anyway? I could do with some back-up here before you two start burning your bras and defacing Stella's birthday banners with slogans for women's lib."

Eve gave a throaty laugh. "Now, there's an idea. Haven't done that since I was a student."

Grace grinned. "Me neither."

"Oh, God, what have I started?" Spence lamented, taking a large draw from his pint glass as the two women laughed together, shoulders shaking in mutual mirth.

Momentarily, Eve was composed enough to speak again, her attention focused on Grace as she did so. "Seriously, though, where _is_ Boyd? He did say he was coming, didn't he?"

Grace gave what she hoped was a casual shrug. "He didn't say he wasn't, put it that way."

"But you don't know for sure?" Spence asked.

"I'm not his keeper, Spence."

"No, I know, but..."

He broke off as he registered a warning glance from Eve; raising the subject of their boss had become an increasingly tense activity with Grace in recent months though he had been unable to uncover exactly why. _Bloody women. And they think it's __**us**__ who are difficult to deal with..._He mused, Grace's soft voice breaking him momentarily from his thoughts.

"Speak of the devil." She said, Eve and Spence following her gaze to the entrance to the room where Peter Boyd had appeared, his dark plum shirt half-hidden by a black jacket, a small blue envelope in his fingers. Grace fought down a sudden, intense fluttering in her chest as she registered his attractive appearance and she raised her hand towards him in greeting, hearing Eve laugh loudly beside her as Boyd was suddenly accosted by Stella and several of her friends.

"He's in for it now, you know. It took Spence ages to get away from that lot." She said.

"Oh yeah, it totally ruined my night, being surrounded by all those gorgeous French girls." Spence retorted sarcastically with a roll of his eyes, causing Grace to smile.

"Boyd'll think he's died and gone to heaven." She said. "All that ego-massaging, he'll be completely intolerable if he ever makes it over here."

"Actually, I don't know about that." Eve said, narrowing her eyes and nodding towards their boss. "It kind of looks like he's in need of rescuing, if you ask me..."

Spence gave a snort. "Please. Since when has any man needed rescuing from the potential of hooking up with some fit, young...?"

Grace's eyes widened. "Spence!"

"What?"

"You really have got a one-track mind on the weekend, haven't you?"

"I just mean, with Sarah back in the States, who can blame him?"

Eve rolled her dark eyes. "I'm telling you, Spence, he's clamouring for a way out over there, his body language is all wrong. Don't you think, Grace?"

Grace looked at her friend steadily, the feigned innocence in her expression not fooling the profiler at all. "I gave up trying to read Boyd's body language a long time ago, Eve..."

"Well, in this case, I think you should make an exception. You don't want him to start shouting, do you?"

Grace gave a lop-sided smile, knowing she was beaten. "Fine. Pour me another glass of champagne, then, and let's get this over with."

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes & Disclaimer:** See chapter 1

Armed with a fresh glass of champagne for herself and another for Boyd, Grace began to make her way across the room towards him. She smiled as she noted the light in his eyes on her approach, the group of young women surrounding him beginning to disperse as she reached his side, wordlessly handing him a champagne flute.

"Apparently I'm your knight in shining armour..." She said after several moments, warmth filling her chest at the flicker of a smile playing across his lips.

"Thanks." Amusement coloured his deep baritone as he took a sip from his drink. "I think."

"Always assuming you needed rescuing from beautiful girls fawning over you?"

He raised an eyebrow. "Fawning over me?"

She shrugged, careful to keep her tone light, her eyes focussed far across the room. "You know what some young girls are like with attractive older men..."

His smile broadened at her casual use of the complimentary adjective. "Don't tell me. It's some bloody Freudian thing or other."

"Actually, no. I was just going to say they probably thought you were loaded."

"Ouch, Grace."

She turned towards him, a crooked smile spreading across her face. "Sorry. Did I burst your bubble there?"

"Yeah, you did a bit."

"Cramped your style?"

"And any other clichés you can think of."

"You're welcome, Boyd." She paused momentarily to sip her champagne, enjoying the warming sensation in her chest as the liquid bubbled down her throat. "Where've you been, anyway? Stella was starting to think you weren't coming."

His expression immediately darkened, his eyebrows knitting together in a frown and Grace felt her stomach tense in response, the light-hearted atmosphere between them suddenly evaporating. "I had some things to do."

"Right..." He was silent then, elaboration not forthcoming, and Grace knew better than to push the subject further, despite the ache in her chest. She forced a smile to her lips. "Fancy something other than champagne? Spence and Eve are on pints but we could always get a bottle of red, if you like."

He gave a tired smile that reached nowhere near his eyes. "Sounds fine."

They walked back towards the bar then, Spence and Eve smiling broadly as they approached, Grace desperately hoping that their buoyant mood would permeate Boyd's perpetually depressive one. She grinned as the forensic scientist slid unsteadily from her bar stool and stretched up to kiss him loudly on the cheek before standing back to appraise his appearance.

"Nice." She said simply, her dark eyes slightly unfocussed, a vague slur to her voice. "Very nice. No wonder the French girls were all over you."

Boyd raised his eyebrows at Spence. "How much has she had to drink?" He asked, accepting a glass of red wine from Grace with a nod of thanks.

"_She_ has had just enough to be happily tipsy, thank you very much." Eve replied grinning, moving to perch back on the stool, her fingers closing once again about her pint glass. "No more, no less."

"Yeah, and enough for her tongue to be even looser than normal." Spence added, earning him a playful slap on the arm from the scientist and a gasp from her lips.

"Spence, how can you say that? You have no idea about my tongue and what it's capable of!"

The group dissolved into fits of raucous laughter at her innuendo and Grace felt a wave of relief wash over her as she noted Boyd's apparently genuine amusement, his head thrown back as he laughed, his hand moving to clap Spence's shoulder heartily.

"She's got you there, Spence, you have to admit." He said as their mirth began to gradually subside.

Spence shrugged his broad shoulders in concession. "Yeah, yeah, all right."

"What's all the laughter about?" Stella asked, as she appeared next to Eve. "I can hear you lot from halfway across the room."

Eve draped an arm about her friend's shoulder and leaned close to her ear. "Well..." She began, her tone conspiratorial.

"Apparently, it's national make-Spence-feel-like-an-idiot day." Spence grumbled, interrupting Eve as she started to speak.

Stella fixed her expression into one of innocence. "I thought that was every day, Spence?"

"It's starting to bloody well feel like it." He said, attempting a tone of gravity but unable to stop himself smiling as Stella began to grin.

"Anyway, I'm trying to round people up for dancing." She said, hazel eyes shining as she turned towards Boyd. "I take it you're all up for it?"

Grace stifled a laugh as Boyd gave a low growl. "Just because it's your birthday, Stella, doesn't give you the right to take the piss."

Her smile widened. "As if I would..."

"I don't dance. As well you know."

"Well, I most certainly do." Eve announced, sliding from her stool and slipping her arm through Stella's. She held out her other hand towards Spence. "DI Jordan? Can we tempt you?"

Spence grinned. "Absolutely, Dr Lockhart. I'm a dancing legend."

Boyd gave a loud laugh. "Something about only black men having rhythm?"

The younger man's smile widened. "Got it in one, boss."

Stella turned towards Grace, her eyebrows raised in question. "Grace? How about you?"

Grace let her eyes flicker towards Boyd before back to the younger woman in front of her. "Oh, I don't think so, Stella. I'm afraid I've got two left feet."

"Just us youngsters, then?" She replied mischievously, smiling warmly at the psychologist before leading Spence and Eve across the room, Eve squeezing Grace's arm gently as she passed her.

Boyd reached for the bottle of wine, topping up Grace's glass along with his own. She smiled her thanks, watching the small group of her colleagues as they meandered through the crowded room towards the dance floor. She leaned her back against the bar, unexpected thrills surging through her body as she felt Boyd move to stand beside her, his arm flush against hers.

"They've really gelled well, haven't they, the three of them." She began, her eyes still following the group as they stopped to talk to some of Stella's cousins.

Boyd quirked an eyebrow. "I think Spence has the knack of 'gelling' with any women, Grace, don't you?"

She laughed. "That's true."

"But they do work well together, I'll give you that."

"Hmm. I like how Eve just slotted right in..."

"After Felix defected back to the FSS, you mean?"

She rolled her eyes. "Boyd."

"What?"

"You can't keep them all with you forever, you know. Sooner or later, they're going to want to move on, take promotions, gain different experience..."

He have her a sideways glance. "Anything to do with me being a pain in the arse to work for?"

Grace grinned. "Of course not."

"I'm _not_ a pain in the arse?" His dark eyes sparkled with incredulity as she side-stepped his question.

She fixed him with her gaze, ignoring him. "My point is...at this stage in their careers, you've got to be prepared for the possibility that any one of them might choose to leave at any time."

"You're not making me feel any better, Grace. This is supposed to be a party."

"And you don't want to be concerned with empty-nest syndrome?"

A smile flickered across his features as he took another draw from his glass. "Or psychoanalysis."

She laughed and he turned slightly to face her. "I guess we'll just deal with it as and when the time comes." He said, causing Grace to raise her eyebrows.

"'We'?"

"Yeah. You're not going anywhere, are you?"

"I don't know. The man who runs my Unit is a bit of a pain in the arse..."

He laughed loudly before turning to gaze back across the room once more. "God, I asked for that, didn't I?"

"You're slipping, Boyd. That was altogether too easy."

He let the atmosphere between them settle before speaking again, somewhat sombrely. "Seriously, though..."

Grace reached a hand across her body to gently squeeze his arm before releasing it. "Stop worrying."

"That's not an answer, Grace."

"Boyd." She said, sighing, closing her eyes briefly. "I'm sure I'll be in the Squad long after all the rest of you have left for pastures new. All right?"

He frowned. "What do you mean by that?"

She shrugged. "Well...eventually...I mean...you'll probably move to the U.S, won't you?"

He sighed heavily and let the silence hang in the air, his eyes staring unfocussed in front of him as he pondered his response. "I wouldn't count on that, Grace."

"Well, I wasn't counting on it, Boyd. I just...assumed that would be your next move, that's all."

"You shouldn't make assumptions..."

"Am I wrong, then?"

He sighed again, feeling the tension tighten across his forehead as he frowned. "It's...not as straightforward as all that..."

"No?"

"I don't really want to talk about it, Grace. It's hardly appropriate for a party, is it."

She held up her free hand, her palm towards him. "All right. Whatever you want."

"I'm not being deliberately evasive..."

"What _do_ you want to talk about, then?"

He blew out his breath, frustrated. "I don't know. We could just get drunk and not talk about anything."

Grace raised her eyebrows. "It must be serious."

He looked pained and he squeezed his eyes closed briefly. "Grace, please..."

She looked at him for a long moment, acknowledging the anguish in his expression before reaching back to the bar to retrieve the bottle of wine, emptying the last few drops of the burgundy liquid into their glasses. "Okay." She said softly. "Drinking it is."

Boyd smiled gratefully as he picked up his glass, draining its contents and turning back to the bar to order another bottle. "Shall we find a table?" He asked as he retrieved his purchase, his eyes scanning the room and locating a vacant table towards the corner.


End file.
